9.4.18

copula cupola



here is a day
a day is a poem
a poem is a dream
a dream is a day

here are you
you are notyou
notyou is an i
an i is a question

here is death
death is a doubt
a doubt is a bird
a bird is a vision

there is a song
resembling a doubt
hiding in me
and i in a day

8.4.18

eimei nijūhasshūku

free me from science
not that i can believe stupid things
but so poetry can find a ground in me

free me from facts
not that i can misrepresent abuse
but so those fictions that guide life can be seen

free me from humans
not that i can live wholly apart
but so i can hear the stories of trees and clouds

free me from technology
not that i can ignore currency
but so i can remember nakedness

free me from time
not that i can escape death
but so i can feel creation

6.4.18

syncategorematic : an opsecro hercle habent quas gallinae manus



we’re all in the cosmic kitchen together cooking energy pancakes

when teleology is finally annihilated – this most difficult death – will ends finally have ended?

the spirit energies i can take. it’s the human energies
                  but human energies are just spirit energies particularly configured
but it’s the dominance of these particularities that offend me – their preponderance over the multiplicities of voices
                  but

but
                  but
but
                 

eso esoteros esotatos
esoteric esotatic
esotericism esotaticism
within – more within – most within

they’re the kind of people i’d like to be if i were those kind of people
s(t)imulate me


woe to humans for you shall be replaced by machines and shall lose your humanity
woe to consumers for youve sucked the earth almost dry
woe to advertisers for youve made an art of deception and manipulation and are cursed to wander as cynics in a herd of dupes
woe to movers and shakers for youve moved to outer space making aliens of yourselves and have shaken the peasants from their slumber endangering your material foundations to which they tend
woe to environmentalists for you love wild animals that wouldnt hesitate to eat you for breakfast
woe to americans for your time has nearly come to join the legions of peasants in other lands whom youve squeezed and exploited since the end of the second world war
and woe to antiamericans for your sanctimonious rage betrays the ugly american within you
woe to liberals for theres no longer faith in your wornout myths and youve become scholastics idling until the next renaissance
woe to conservatives for your talk of oldfashioned utopia is a smokescreen for a return to the primitive state wherein the dominators succumb to the temptations of godhood are swiftly corrupted by their power and drag their slaves down with them
woe to you professional philosophers for your title is an oxymoron  a lover of knowledge must cower in angst rather than adjust to the horrors of nature to make of philosophy an academic field of study for charlatans pseudoscientists and bored young transients in colleges that have turned into mere businesses
woe to the gods for theyve failed to grace us with their existence
woe to monotheists for you have poor taste in fiction
woe to optimists for you dishonour the multitudes that have fallen
woe to pessimists for you waste your life in grief
woe to hollywood for your creativity is as bankrupt as that of the chinese market you seek to plunder with remakes and superheroic trivialities which market is a giant ravenous copying machine
woe to the computer for digitization drains the value from that which is encoded and the internet and the smartphone erase the humanity from their addicted users
woe to pornography for it proves that sex is a ridiculous spectacle
woe to sex for its pleasures must be kept secret to preserve the sophisticates illusion of superiority
woe to the large for it is comprised of myriad small things and is at their mercy
woe to the small for it is confined within the behemoth and is blind to the latters grandeur
woe unto the earth for once it has killed off the wise apes there shall be none to cry foul at its monstrosity
and woe to dabblers in prophecy who pilfer the language of the fictional jesus which has become a cliché


31.3.18

technogyrovagia

-->
western formal philosophy (and associated analytics) increasingly advanced moves in a puerile game
riverrun of a species
glomming to itselfies
like hot cheese
 writing an aestheticized stream of consciousness journal
describing in code the movements of a soulworld complex
communication
key to a forgotten door
hope of the humans
 as the human emigrates from nature immersion and immigrates to technological rhythms it requires an increasing battery of diverse drugs to adapt its fleshsoul conglomerate to these new and demanding environs. its grand and petty experiment is whether a species – this one – can use prosthetics – which ones? these? at what penalties costs joys? – to sign the monstrous avenues being built across the growing voids
                  and whether a species fragmentation – not dissimilar to what happened religiously in the reformation – is occurring  separating the drugfree (but are there truly any left? is it not now just many drug sects battling each other?) and the prostheticized
the gnomic homeless
speak in lonely fricatives
light our hard margins